That’s what it’s called when you are soaping up your ass-cleavage, and you find a butt-clot that you apparently missed while swabbing your decks. Add in a toupee-sized bundle of ass-hairs, and I think we can all say “EWWWW!!!”

Well, I hope you are all having a happy ‘Dead White Guys Day’. I am offended by all holiday names. I think we should have a ‘Dead Black People Day’ in January, and an ‘Important Religious Figure’s Day’ in December.

In November, we can have ‘Boy, Did We Ever Fuck Over The Indians Day’. October? ‘Hey, Let’s Worship Satan Month’.

July? ‘Let’s Get Drunk And Blow Shit Up Day’.

I have noticed, that when you are unemployed, they don’t give you the day off. Perhaps on those days we call holydays, the worker bees should get the day off, and we drones should have to go to work. Teach us a lesson.

My car has gone to shit, again. We are using our State Farm towing option for maybe the last time, because they are shutting it off next month because we use it. The State makes you buy something that the company you bought it from takes it away or charges you more for if you ever use it. Nope, no racket here, move along, nothing to see.

And while we’re at it, we will tax your asses off to build roads, and then station worthless fuckheads with radar guns on it, so we can tax you even more, because you are driving in a way that we, The State do not approve of.

In my town, the fines go directly to pay the cop’s salaries. They are very vigilant.

Yeah, keep whining about all those phantom ‘freedoms’ you think you have. Sorry, George, we fucked up what you and God gave us.

People going on like anything matters…like there will ever be a Christmas again, at least one where many of the presents don’t say ‘made in China’ on them.This is like watching a movie where a burning fuse is racing towards a keg of TNT, and no one in the film notices, no matter how loud you yell at the screen.

We are living in those last few seconds in Terminator 2, just before SkyNet drops the hammer on ‘life as we know it’.

Pundits are prattling on about their usual empty-headed nonsense, people care whether some frog twat made a pop’n fresh baby…even I care about the Raider’s chances to be in the Super Bowl, when I know in the back of my reptile brain that there is an excellent chance that Oakland will be under several feet of radioactive mud come this time next year.

Dreams like you’ve never dreamt before. Do you wake at odd hours in the night, listening? Were those hoofbeats you heard? Do the dead ones from your past appear in your dreams as if it was perfectly natural for them to be talking to you? Do you wake because you just struck out in your sleep at something you were sure was peering intently into your sleeping face with a knowing smile?

The trees whisper secrets to each other…the house moans in it’s sleep, everyday things you’ve always taken for granted look somehow…different.